


Done

by mhunter10



Series: Ma: Queen of the Castle [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey doesn't kill Frank and doesn't get thrown in juvie. He should be afraid but can’t stop thinking about Ian. He finds old comfort with mama.





	

“Where the hell you been?” Kathleen stood from the table, hands on her hips. “I’ve been calling you, Mickey, you know damn well your curfew was an hour and a half ago!”

Mickey stomped past her to the kitchen to grab a beer. “Don’t fucking worry about it,” he muttered. He tried to get by his mom again and she snatched the beer from his hand, slamming it down on the table.

“Excuse me?” her face was stern, hair pulled back so she looked older and even more pissed. She fisted his shirt, pulling her son to her. “You wanna change your answer, boy?”

Mickey could smell the alcohol on her breath. She wasn’t drunk, just probably drinking her worry away. He wanted to do the same. He’d come this fucking close to doing two completely stupid things. He almost killed Frank, which he thinks honestly would’ve got him a parade or at least a medal, but then Ian would’ve been mad at him. Then he’d thought about the safety of four walls and a lock, as sirens pulled up like some sign from above. He’d strolled right up to where the cops were dealing with some shit he hadn’t even noticed before, fully intent on falling back on his ways. He’d been losing himself lately, getting all wrapped up in Gallagher like it meant something…like it was going to mean anything at all probably a month later. The cops had eyed him… _”You got a problem, son?”_ …it would’ve mattered so easy to throw a punch, crack a joke about pigs in uniform and get his ass thrown in juvie again for maybe a couple weeks tops. But Ian would’ve been mad at him. So he bit his lip, put his head down and kept walking. He didn’t even care where his brothers had gone, they would’ve screwed it all up anyway. He doesn’t even know why he asked for their help, but he hates that part of him knew he wouldn’t do it. And now he hadn’t and he’d blown his chance to escape his father, so he was going to die. All because of Ian Gallagher. As he took the long way home, he was haunted by the kid’s face because he was a fucking kid, naïve as hell and looking like he was actually worried about him. His eyes stung when he thought about the tears in those green eyes.

“Answer me, Mickey! Where were you?” Kathleen doesn’t shout. Ever. Her blue eyes pierce you and her words are a hushed bite that cut you down. But she looks worried and sad, red hair and faint freckles not helping at all.

Mickey yanks away, knocking her hand off him. “None of your fucking business, bitch,” he sneers.

She smacks him. Hard enough that it stings and the heat covers his whole face. His shitty beard didn’t protect him. He can still feel where her hand connected, as he grabs the beer and storms off to his room. He can’t stand it that she flinched when he moved. He would never…he’s not….

He drains the bottle and curls onto his side on the bed. His cheek hurts and his head is pounding. His stomach feels empty and it makes him sick. He wipes furiously at his leaking eyes. He’s dead. He’s so dead if his dad finds out. But he already feels like he’s dying because Ian’s face is behind his eyes and he can’t run away. He can’t say he’s done. He doesn’t want to be done. He wants to see Ian happy like when he talks about his dreams, or when he catches him looking at him. But he hurt him. He hurt Ian and now he might as well be dead. It’s fucking scary.

Terry comes home late, waking Mickey. He spends the rest of the night awake and ready for whatever comes just like the night before. He doesn’t move or make a sound, staying still so the bed doesn’t creak. That’s how he hears him talking about a job with his uncle. His ma doesn’t really question it. She’s quiet, clearly in her own head. Mickey knows his home life sucks. It’s all he’s known. It is what it is. The difference between his parents, though, is Kathleen would rather die than be like Terry. And she’s not. Not by a long shot. Hitting kids is a lesson. Mickey’s learned what he needs to survive. He was wrong, he knows that.

He listens and waits. It’s around 8 in the morning when the door slams and he hears the car pull off. Mickey waits another thirty minutes in case, then leaves his room. Mandy’s room is empty. Somehow he knows she’s at Ian’s. His brothers are snoring on the couch, passed out. He wonders when they rolled in. He heads to his parent’s bedroom door and opens it slowly. It’s still kind of dark, but he can see his mom on the bed, hear her breathing.

He moves closer after pushing the door to, and he doesn’t know how but she knows he’s there. She stirs, looking up at him like she isn’t surprised to find him there. Even though it’s been a long time, she opens the covers and moves to let her son in bed like he’s little again, achy and too bruised to go to school but needing his mom’s comfort. And sometimes there was unspoken apologies between mother and son that healed deeper wounds.

Mickey climbs into the bed and Kathleen wraps her son in her arms, pulling him close. She rubs his hair and face, kissing his shoulder. Mickey takes her hand, the one she used, and kisses it before settling it around him; their fingers locked. Mickey presses his nose into her pillow and inhales. He doesn’t think about the fact she’s in a silk tank and her underwear. Their bodies fit together and it’s warm and he can finally sleep and not worry. So they sleep, knowing all is forgiven.

“How long?” Mickey asks when he wakes a few hours later. His mom is still in bed next to him on her side. He’s on his stomach. He feels her fingernails in his hair and down his back. He hears the TV on in the living room.

“Just a day. Be back late,” she answers. It’s a familiar question, one she always answers when she can. Her husband does what he wants, though. They never really know, but it’s comforting to have an idea.

Mickey nods, sighs. He closes his eyes. It’s not long but it’s something, and he’s not dead yet which means Frank hasn’t spilled. He opens his eyes.

“This about Ian?” She asks, circling her finger along his shoulder. She doesn’t look at him.

Mickey swallows. She’s good. A mother’s fucking instinct.

“Frank,” is all he says.

She rolls her eyes and repeats, “Frank.” She shakes her head, “He’s a literal fly on the wall.”

Mickey agrees.

“You two fight?”

“Ma,” Mickey whines, turning his head away. He doesn’t want to do this with her.

“This why the lock was off the guns, because I swear, Mickey, if you—“

“I didn’t!” Mickey turns back. She gives him a look. “I didn’t fucking kill Frank, alright?”

“Because Ian didn’t want you to,” she says it like a statement, like a damn fact.

“Because I just didn’t! Fuck what Ian wants! We’re not…he’s just… It’s not like that. Never has been, never will be.”

“Does he know that?”

Mickey bites his lip. He shrugs but it’s too late. She sees right through him; knows how he is when he’s scared.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, we’re done. I’m…done.”

Kathleen looks at her son, thumb caressing the small of his back. When his eyes meet hers, she sees it.

“Is that what you want, sugar?”

Mickey doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. He turns on his back, sighing. He blinks his eyes, running his hands through his hair. He scratches at his beard.

“Ian’s a sweet boy,” she says, picking lint off the old comforter.

Mickey’s scoff turns into a slight smile. Ian’s smile comes to mind.

Kathleen pokes at his stomach, making him laugh. “Talk to him. Can’t be any worse than…than this,” she scratches at the hair on his face.

“Hey! The fuck you talking about?” Mickey laughs, swatting her hand away. “This is all man.”

Kathleen chuckles, “It’s all…something.”

“Whose side are you on?”

She kisses his head. “Go. He’ll listen. Probably helps you didn’t off Frank, but something tells me he’ll care more you didn’t violate your probation.” She raises an eyebrow, saying she’s glad he didn’t fuck up too.

Mickey sighs. He misses Ian and he saw him yesterday. Fuck. He looks at his ma and knows she’s right. She’s always right. He brushes her hair back, letting her know he’s heard her. She smiles and it’s warm and he’s missed this. He wonders what it would be like to wake up in Ian’s arms.

“Hate this fucking thing,” he admits. “Itches like a bitch.”

They look at each other and laugh.

 


End file.
